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I have written about my legs so often that I think it’s time to name them: Gypsy and Thief. This is what I called them because, like all four of my Russian grandparents, they walked out of Africa, crossed deserts and seas, stole the fat dates that hung down from trees like ripe brown nipples, … Continue reading Gypsy and Thief

I’ve been addicted to various substances, some more benign than others. As a child I was addicted to sugar, the only way I knew to regulate my nervous system. The adults were unpredictable – sometimes smiling sometimes raging and I did not know which face I’d meet when I entered a room. Sugar calmed me, … Continue reading addictions

Your father is dead, she said. There was a commotion in the next room, my mother wailing, the aunts and uncles wailing. Cigar smoke. Tires screeching outside on wet pavement. She came and sat on the edge of my bed. So quiet. So still, dressed all in grey. They’ll lie to you for a bit, … Continue reading the six sisters

I wake early. It’s either light or dark, depending on the season, but always early. Some urge to catch the morning like the birds at my feeder. They come when the world is still grey, their red feathers still grey in the half light, their song held back until they have eaten, until they are … Continue reading praise song

My acupuncturist tells me I’m yin deficient, tapped out, done in, running on fumes. She says I’ve used up my ancestral chi, apparently not an easy thing to do. I must look confused because she elaborates. Do I ever feel like I’m pushing through fatigue, resisting the siren call to rest? Do I ever skip … Continue reading nourish